Beautifully Undone
by blueraspberrymilkshake
Summary: Kyle and Cartman's lives had changed drastically. But that doesn't mean they would never run into each other again. Kyman. Rated T.
1. Picture Imperfect

_Here it is. My first official Kyman fic. And it's going to be a multi-chapter as well, Jesus tap dancing Christ. The title of the story is based off of a song with the same name by Lindy. Let's see where this baby goes from here! Enjoy the story! Feedback is always appreciated!_

* * *

"I guess the only thing that doesn't change in life, is that things change."

* * *

Kyle didn't think this place would be so damn crowded. It hadn't been twenty minutes since he got here and he was already on his third trip to the bathroom. He left the water faucet on - which was already littered with water, hair and God-knows-what-else, thanks to the unsanitary strangers that would flee in and out of the stalls from time to time. He ignored a pair of unfamiliar faces that would later dismiss his memory, as he vigorously (and unsuccessfully) scrubbed off the sickly brown stain on his white t-shirt.

After what seemed like hours, Kyle finally gave up as he begrudgingly stared at the rest of the smeared up coffee, settling on the cotton fibers like a stubborn scar on a child's skin.

He sighed before throwing his wet paper towel in the garbage, and he turned to see the two men, who were staring at him the entire time. His eyebrows knit together, olive green eyes settling at them irritably. They just left, one of them snickering before the other just shrugged and continued his conversation.

Kyle then caught himself at the mirror, noticing his tense form; besides the shirt, his auburn curls appeared disheveled, his posture so stiff and tense, and...God damn it, he looked like a fucking mess. And all this for an opening reception he didn't intend on going to. He only came here for an extra credit assignment. Oh, and there was also his college roommate, Jake, who was able to enter not one, but two of his art pieces to the reception. The brunette told Kyle about the news, and the redhead had nothing else to do on his day off from work.

Kyle was already in the hallway when left the bathroom. He headed straight towards the coat rack, dodging each stranger along the way. Once he got there, he grabbed his orange jacket and put it on.

"Hey, Kyle!" Said man turned to see Jake. One of the lights from the room illuminated his blackish-brown hair and casual attire. His smile faded slightly when he saw Kyle zip up his jacket.

"You're leaving already?" Jake said with a worrying tone.

"No, no," Kyle interjected. "It just got cold in here…"

And to his defense, it is pretty chilly inside. Today was the first time in months it became sunny outside - to the point where every building Kyle went to had the air conditioning on. Ironically, only four days ago it was 25 degrees outside. Got to get use to the Michigan weather.

Jake just shrugged before giving Kyle a paper cup. "I got you some coffee, if you want some," He punctuated his reply with a light chuckle.

Kyle stared at the beverage before kindly refusing the offer. "No, thanks. Oh, um, I saw your painting, by the way, it's awesome."

Jake's face lit up at the compliment, sparks of light reflecting his small, hazel orbs. His dimples displayed his ardent features when he smiled, contemplating his tan face. "Thanks, man. Well, I'm gonna look around some more, wanna come?"

"Uh, yeah, let me just sit here for a few minutes," Kyle said before moving away from the coat rack.

Jake stared at him before replying, "Oh. Okay then…." And just like that he left, running into one of his classmates. Even after nine months of rooming together, Kyle never really considered Jake as a friend. All he knew about the brunette was that he was Hispanic, stood 5'5 tall, and was a happy-go-lucky type of guy majoring in Fine Arts. Or was it Art History? Architecture?

Kyle leaned against the wall, next to a table of light snacks, while his eyes roamed around the room. The area was as big as a school gymnasium; the walls painted with creamy beige, and the floor was under a large, tacky, gray covering. Paintings and drawings were secured on the wall, while small 3D artifacts are placed on each stand, surrounding the entire room. Everyone in here ranged from college students (who may or may not go to Kyle's university) to elders in their eighties who seem to know each other since forever. Speaking if which, the majority seemed to be in groups, chatting away as if they were in some kind of family reunion rather than an exhibit. Kyle grimace at that thought, as if being a complete outsider isn't enough.

Kyle took his phone out of his pocket to look at the time.

8:54 PM

"Better get this over with," he mumbled to himself before he left the table, walking towards the artwork.

Kyle had hardly considered himself as an artist. In fact, after finishing his freshman year with an undecided major, he was more doubtful on his future. It wasn't because he was unsure which positions would work for him - STEM, Philosophy, IT, and English were his strongest points, just to name a few. He would've included Politics on his list, but his idea to become a lawyer has unfortunately became unlikely after spending his youth dealing with his unbearable parents - especially his father, Gerald, whose inconsiderate behavior and hypocritical let-downs towards his own children has given Kyle emotional scars, still fresh on his mind.

Kyle would give himself a pat on the back for managing to stay on the Honor Roll while juggling AP classes and a part-time job up until his high school graduation, earning him a fair amount of scholarships along the way. Unfortunately, once he had started the Fall semester at the University of Michigan, he pondered if each career path would be worth it.

Kyle was a very intelligent and outspoken young man (compared to most of his peers back in South Park) and he was determined to find a solution, no matter how absurd it would be. As he hit puberty, however, not only he was "becoming a man", he knew that his life would suck even more.

Over the last nine years Kyle's insecurity would crawl inside his skin like a plethora of maggots, attacking his hard, tanned flesh with every harsh bite from their acidic fangs. Like the obstinate child he was, he would ignore the bothersome, frightening laceration until it was too late - he would realize the pain but the damage is already done, leaving him helpless and scared for his life. It took him a while to get used to this cycle, and when he did he would try and patch himself up, reminding himself that he wasn't a pussy who caves so damn easily.

The wounds had barely healed and that same feeling continued to taunt Kyle for the rest of his freshman year, and he was afraid that everything would blow up on his face for the umpteenth time. So during his Winter Break, Kyle thought that he was ready to take his Humanities elective, to take a break from some of the major subjects and actually enjoy something for once in his life.

That's when Kyle decided to take Art History. He would learn something from the creative mindset from past artists, without leaving his analytic side. Plus, he didn't have to buy $150 worth of drawing materials (despite the Art History book costing $110), since it had been years before he considered working on that craft. It started off pretty well, the teacher was decent, the classroom didn't seem so claustrophobic, and for the first time in years he was actually learning for fun. He thought he got everything in the bag until two months ago when he got his second test back. Now a 'C+' inked in bold, red letters wasn't bad per se, but it was still average and mediocre and unexceptional like most people in the world and Kyle knew better than that.

Since then he went straight to the school library to study his ass off until closing, realizing the new routine he has to go with. And everyone knows that extra studying means little to no social life - it was bad enough that he had rarely spoken to his old crew anymore (besides his ex-super best friend, Stan). Because of that, the only moral support he had were from Sheila and their out-of-state relatives (and dare he say his second cousin, who he still hates so fucking much).

Whether Kyle wanted to admit or not, he was somewhat relieved that the art show was tonight. Because it meant that some students who've entered were ready for graduation, which meant that the semester was almost over, which meant that Kyle only had one last week before he completes his first year.

Tonight, all he had to do is to find one piece that he liked and explain why he liked it. It had to be a least a full page, double-spaced, MLA format, 12 fonts, and Times New Roman. It would've been the easiest assignment in the world if Kyle hadn't found almost every submission mediocre and half-assed.

Kyle had his fair share of poor quality craftsmanship, but he was sure that he would die of embarrassment if he were the one who considered a big wad of red wires as "Modern Art".

"A depiction of anger. Yeah right," Kyle snarled before walking away.

After a few minutes Kyle ended up at the photography section. The pictures looked as if they were part of some kind of advertisement, yet they were aesthetically pleasing nonetheless.

As the pair of olive green eyes wandered around the group of pictures, they stopped at one picture that managed to get his attention. It appeared duller than then the rest of the photos, showing a rather down-to-earth atmosphere behind the little white frame. The picture was taken during the winter, as there was a huge blanket of non-virgin snow. The other noticeable things were a small group of children. There were four of them, and they appeared to be playing a snowball fight. Only two of them were truly laughing, as they stood next to each other throwing wads of crystal snowflakes. The boy in distress was bigger, mouth open wide and eyebrows knit together. One of the snowballs busted into white dust when this person took the picture, landing on the boy's oversized coat. He was obviously losing the game and was pissed off, and the boy next to him just stood there with his hands in his pockets staring at something. Kyle couldn't tell whether the boy was either bored or stoned. The lighting wasn't perfect, but the sunlight made up for it, irradiating the boys and the brick house behind them.

And the entire thing felt so natural. There was no huddling around for the camera, trying to find the perfect angle before everyone says "Cheese!" with fake smiles, pretending that everything's Peachy Keene. But this one photograph is the real deal.

Kyle stared at the picture in awe, and he couldn't help but chuckle as he was drawn to the nostalgia. It reminded the redhead so much of himself, Stan, Kenny, and Cartman of all people, and it felt like he's staring at a piece of memory. A piece of memory that drowned from bits and pieces of Kyle's life that was full of regrets and hatred and betrayal. And someone managed to remind him how simpler his life was. And Kyle had a feeling that the photographer felt the same way.

The redhead wouldn't say that things were better back then, it was far from it. However, he would love to feel like a kid again for once in his life.

 _Things change, and I have to deal with it._

Kyle looked below the photograph, a small label revealing the person behind the camera.

 _Winter Break_ by Zach Wilson.

Kyle took the time to record the picture and caption with his phone, before calling it a night and heading towards the exit.

* * *

It didn't take Kyle long to head outside, and everything was already dark as the moon and constellations glittered around the night sky. His car was not parked far either, the parking lot was behind the building. He decided to pull his phone out again and check the time. His head was still down before he bumped into someone with a loud thump.

"Woah!" Kyle interjected, "I am so sorry, dude-"

"Goddamnit, watch where you're going-"

Then there was silence.

Kyle and the other man stared at each other for a few moments. That tone, that annoying accent, sounded so familiar. But then a few seconds passed and it hit him like a truck. That chestnut hair, the strong jaw, those blue eyes, that fatass body. And he was holding a plate of the cake that was obviously from the snack section. It's all coming clear...

Motherfucker.

" _Cartman?!_ "

When said man heard those syllables come out of the shorter man's mouth, he started stammering.

" _H-holy Shit!_ "

He then turned around and ran like hell, never looking back, and later left Kyle's sight. The redhead stood there, as if he saw Medusa rather than the immature fat guy from his childhood. He was as stiff as stone but it only took him a minute to realize someone was calling him.

"Kyle? _Kyle?_ " yelled Jake, gently poking Kyle on the shoulder. Kyle later snapped out of his trance, and turned to the shorter guy.

"You okay, Kyle?" Jake asked.

Kyle didn't answer, and instead stared at his oblivious roommate. He then turned straight ahead and walked away, knowing he would have a hard time sleeping tonight.


	2. More Than You Could Chew

_A/N: I'm lazy and writing's way harder than I thought it would be. Those were the reasons why I posted this chapter so late. By the way,this story will switch Kyle and Cartman's POV for every chapter. With that being said, I hope you guys enjoy!_

* * *

"Here's your drink, sir!"

The train of thought in Cartman's mind was interrupted by the waiter's voice. He blinked a few times after staring at the polished, wooden table, before turning towards his fourth glass of raspberry lemonade, the last three empty ones already at the other side. He didn't interact with the waiter, and snatched the cold glass, his warm fingerprints pressing the thin sheet of frost. He unwrapped a brand new straw before dipping it at the bottom of the glass and wrapped the other end with his lips.

"Would you also like another batch of our bread?" asked the waiter.

"Uh, yeah, sure, whatever," the brunette answered, waving his hand at the waiter, signalling him to go away. He used his other hand to grab the last piece of the golden, buttery biscuits. He looked to his right, near the window, to make sure his small black camera bag was safely secured.

Cartman didn't know how he ended up in this place. As soon as he recognized Kyle he ran as far as his chubby legs could take him. When his metabolism finally got the best of him, Cartman managed to end up in a restaurant that would eventually close at 1 AM. Speaking of which, this place was so different compared to the ones he begged his Mom to take him when he was in elementary school. Cartman was sitting near the very end, away from the typical late-night crowd - not the biggest number of people in the restaurant, maybe like, less than half the place are filled with empty seats - but the vibrant, upbeat,unfamiliar vibes was giving the brunette even more anxiety than he already has. Everything is so Goddamn hipster; from the bright purple lights scattering on the ceiling (almost like the glow in the dark stars he had in his own bedroom a long time ago, but brighter) to the paintings that were displayed against the wall.

Even the small, taupe candle that was revealing his face (the way his eyebrows knit together while his cheeks are painted pink from embarrassment, and how he was biting on the top of his straw as soon as he went back to his drink) is making him feel like an exposed juvenile delinquent.

Cartman looked at the menu laying next to his right before facing it down on the table. The fact that he was too stressed out to order any real food says something.

' _Oh, Goddamnit! I don't believe it! Fuck. First, moving to this hippie town, then I had my mom on my ass 24/7, only to have her kick me out, get a couple of shitty jobs to afford my shitty home, and now this?! Haven't I suffered enough?! How the fuck did he recognize me?! Shit, I should've kept waking! And Jesus, now I need more raspberry lemonade.'_

Cartman took the bitten straw off his mouth before looking up, desperately trying to find the same waiter with wandering eyes, until he finally spotted his God-awful man-bun. "Excuse me! Hey, you!" No response.

' _That_ _bastard's ignoring me!'_ the brunette thought, and continued to yell, "Hello?!"

The waiter turned to his left, finally getting Cartman's attention. "Sir, I'm in a middle of helping another customer. I'll be with you in a moment". And with that he casually returned to his conversation like nothing happened.

Cartman groaned before turning back, and his eyes settled on a couple. They were clearly disgusted. ' _What the hell are they looking at me for?'_

"What? That guys being a dick! Stop fucking staring at me!" He then got up a bit and leaned closer to the couple with a hard face, hoping that would be enough to scare them off.

He could've sworn that the boyfriend called him a "retard" as he and his girlfriend turned back around, but he didn't care. With every public humiliation he faced for the past nineteen years, Cartman doesn't want anymore unwanted attention. The brunette wished that for once in his life, the universe could stop being a pain in the ass and give him a break. He was always getting the short end of the stick, despite being the most confident, passionate person he knew. It was bad enough he ended up on the bottom of the food chain for becoming rather anti-social and outlandish (probably because of his damn weight). He doesn't need to be presented as some damn monkey locked in a cage, surrounded by a heated audience, only to be thrown at with cracked peanuts and accepted as some kind of "respect".

' _Okay, okay. Calm down, dude. It's only been, what? Two hours since you saw your childhood enemy? Maybe he's changed? It's been what… eight, nine years since you last saw him? Maybe he's not an annoying-ass Jew - shit - Uh, I mean person anymore.'_

"Alright sir, now I am ready to be of your assistance!"

Cartman jumped at the waiter's voice. "Jesus Christ, don't scare me like that! Rude much?"

"Oh! Sorry about that," the waiter giggled a bit, and it took Cartman all of his strength not to scream at his face. Your biscuits are on their way. In the meantime, do you want another refill?"

' _He's really testing me, huh?'_ thought Cartman. Jesus, did he hate this douchebag. Just look at him. Besides that stupid blonde man-bun, he has those thick, arching eyebrows, like he just got out of an expensive celebrity spa. His face was free of acne, and the light sweat on his forehead showed how shiny he was. His royal blue polo shirt was short-sleeved and it has no wrinkles, and it was nicely tucked under his gray dress pants. And let's not forget that damn smile, so friendly, too friendly. He didn't even get his fucking name.

"Yes. And make it quick," Cartman said while getting a closer look at the name tag. "Georgie."

The blonde man raised his eyebrow at Cartman be before noticing the menu at the end of the table. "I'll be taking this," he said, before leaving the other man's sight. He had about enough of the brunette's hostility.

' _Finally, I could think again. Alright Cartman, you haven't seen Kahl for almost a decade. He can't be that headstrong. Yeah, he's probably just as humble as I am. Shit, everyone back at home must've hate him more since I left. I mean, let's be fair here, Kahl has done some pretty fucked up stuff back when we were kids. And he was always giving out his pointless speeches, like anyone cared. Yeah. Everyone hated him. There's no doubt about it. He was probably depressed because he can no longer use me to make him look like a superior asshole. I would even do the same thing to him. I hated him, and I still do, but...I couldn't imagine a life without him when he first moved to San Francisco. So...he might feel the same way...Maybe he misses me? Oh my God, that sounded so gay.'_

A familiar scent flare up Cartman's nostrils, signaling the fresh batch of biscuits. While the brunette really wasn't that hungry, eating any snack had helped calm his nerves. He had never cared for starters this much, but the biscuits these people served here was probably the best ones the brunette had in a long time. They were always warm and never too soft, so everytime Cartman tore them in half, small streams would escape the golden yeast.

"Here you go, sir. Would you like anything else?"

Cartman snatched the small basket off of Georgie's hands and to out a biscuit. "No."

"Your bill will be here shortly," Georgie stated bluntly as he headed towards the kitchen once more.

' _I can't really say I miss him, too. No. I don't miss him. I just pity him, he has to live a lameass adult life like I do. Come to think of it, I kinda wish we had a proper reunion. Then I would know. I would offer him some tea, we talk all night, get to know each other again. Just like the old days. Does he have new friends here? Of course he does. This place is full of progressive cucks who think harassing people on the street with flyers about being vegan could help stop animal cruelty. Of course they're going to need him as some fucking mouthpiece. He thinks he knows everything. He probably has an underpaid minimum wage job to support himself. Hell, he's my age, so I know for a fact he started college, and he's only a step closer to getting his Law degree. His parents gotta be proud of him. So maybe he's not as much as a failure after all. How do I know if he even wants to talk to me again? He managed to hold a grudge against Stan, as far as I remember. It's just isn't worth, is it? He still hates me. So much he probably repressed any memory of me before I invaded his life again. The way he looked at me...Good God. What was I thinking?'_

Cartman stared at his umpteenth biscuit he had just bit off of, before dropping it back in the basket. He lethargically rested his elbows on the table and covered his face. He wasn't really hungry anymore.

* * *

The only easy thing Cartman could ever do nowadays was to find a spot to pee privately. He should've used the public restroom before he left the restaurant, but when he saw the time on his phone he was about to miss the bus stop. He thanked God that he found out which street he was on before heading inside the restaurant, and before settling down he used his bus app to navigate from this location to the closest bus stop. Because of his constant refills earlier, (and the fact that he hadn't bought anything thing else, not even an appetizer) he was forced to pay over $17.86. And because he only brought about $22 tonight, he only has enough bus fair to get back home. Of course, he didn't bother to leave a tip because poor little Georgie was already getting paid $11 an hour. As much as Cartman liked the biscuits, he was certain he would never go back to that damn place again.

It took him two more minutes before the bus finally came, and he went to the very back and sat near the window. Due to his now tight budget, Cartman had no choice but to wait weeks and weeks before he could again afford a meal that he didn't have to prepare.

Come to think of it, it had been years since Cartman went to a restaurant by himself, or any public outing at all. And no it wasn't because the food was awful (the halal burger he had at Good Burger was fucking amazing), but because he was always under Liane's surveillance, since the first time they moved to the Midwest. Back in his late childhood, Liane all of a sudden decided to turn her life around completely and wanted to change herself for the better. And for some reason that meant leaving South Park forever.

Over the last few years, (while Cartman was rotting his brain with Saturday morning cartoons) Liane had been taking some community college courses from God knows where - while keeping a full-time job - and managed to earn her associates degree in Psychology. Apparently, that was enough for her to find a decent apartment near Detroit and start off from there. Cartman couldn't really remember how he reacted to that, other than the fact that he doesn't have to see any his lame ass classmates ever again. As a matter of fact, Cartman had repressed his feelings throughout the entire trip. Liane applied for a position as a youth counselor and she wanted her son to be with her at all costs when she gets the job. In fact, when the two settled down, she didn't bother enrolling him back to middle school. Of course, Cartman was rather relieved; he hated getting homework every night, failing important quizzes (even though he would copy off of anyone every chance he gets), and those hypersensitive principals. But instead of sleeping in or posting pictures on Instagram, he has to the same core course he had in public school, accompanied with yoga, household activities, personal interests, and occasional traveling.

And to make things more frustrating, he had to come to a mental health clinic where Liane works, four days a week. Of course Cartman severed as her patient (although they both had to talk about their personal thoughts between coursework) but there were times when he spoke to other counselors. He hated it. Absolutely hated everything about her fucking job. Because everyone around him expected him to behave and act like a fucking poster child, even if they try to manipulate his mentality. And he hated how they would say "it's okay. We all have problems", because it's not okay. One slip up could have him institutionalized, so he would end up another experiment for psychiatrists to test on as if the other troubled kids were nothing but lab rats. What made it worse was the fact he couldn't get out of this like he did when he was a kid, he would have any fucker who got in his way out of his life. But he couldn't because his mom would be at the very next room, and he couldn't afford the risk. So he played along anyway, and would at times bend the truth; those people could only speculate his words and what was going on outside his room, and he wanted to keep it that way.

Cartman didn't know how or why he managed to adjust to this routine for eight and a half years, but it didn't matter because he finally "graduated" from unschooling at the beginning of this year. He remembered the morning after when Liane was nice enough to bake him a small cake. It was round, completely chocolate, including the icing, and was covered with rainbow sprinkles. At the center was a small text, and it read, "Congrats, My Only Angel". She held it to her son proudly, as if she came straight out of a cooking commercial. And it was pretty obvious she had got up like four hours earlier because her utensils were lying on the counter next to the sink, and the smoke from the stove had lingered around the kitchen. Not to mention her eyes were a bit red and glassy, but Cartman brushed it off and assumed it was from the lack of sleep she had the other night.

Cartman supposed that this was the first time in years he accomplished something. During his unschooling days, he was required to make his own meals from time to time (Liane was nice enough to help him). Plus, he would rarely eat dessert, and was forced to consume a variety of food groups that would change every week. Ironically, he only shed a few pounds; enough to avoid obesity, but not enough to be buff (or thinner for that matter).

Alas, things were a bit rocky, and his relationship with Liane seemed to turned for the worst. Cartman assumed he was free of this "unschooling" bullshit and decided to sneak in alcoholic beer and cigarettes. He also became distant in front of Liane again, deciding that he was done talking about the same feelings he had ever since they left South Park. He was lazy, bitter, and just plain tired, so much that he nearly regressed back to his ten-year-old self. One night, Liane came home early, only to find cigarette butts on the stained coffee table. Cartman assumed she would be home late like she said, and got drunk too. This lead to a screaming match, and he finally told her that he couldn't stand her, and he hated her for turning him into a weak jackass who could no longer stand up to himself. Liane decided she had enough of her son's nonsense and ordered that he lived by himself from that point forward.

Like the most considerate person she was, Liane managed to pick an apartment for her son. It was near the town mall, so it was a great opportunity for Cartman to get any job. He was offered only one job so far - at the Dairy Queen - and the labour he went through made him wish he were a customer again. The apartment itself wasn't so bad, but it was fairly overpriced; and he had no other choice but to cancel his recent subscriptions to Netflix and People Magazine, just to pay off the water bill alone.

Two months ago, Cartman was lucky enough to score a photography position at JCPenny. They were willing to hire beginners, and Cartman took nice photos when he was unschooled, so he decided to give it a shot. With the remaining money Liane gave him before kicking him out, he decided to take the bus to Best Buy one day to buy a decent camera. It only costed him over $150 (nearly half the money given to him), but every photo he took was in great quality, so it was worth it. A few weeks after he overheard about the art exhibition near the closest University, and he decided to give it a shot. One of his personal favorite shots was a group of kids playing in the snow on a snowy February evening. He decided to take the pseudonym 'Zack Wilson', to feel like a rather different person.

And then fast forward to tonight, the reception. It went by fast for Cartman; the crowded room,the snacks on the table, and only a few people acknowledged his work. When he headed outside to catch the bus, he bumped into...him.

The bus was near his last stop, and he would still had to walk a half a mile until Cartman finally gets home. The brunette pulled the yellow wire above his head, alarming the driver he was ready to step off the vehicle. He grabbed his camera bag firmly before stepping in front of the door. It wasn't until that very moment Cartman remember he has work in the morning. This was going to be a _very_ long week.


End file.
